Further into the lives of HP
by magic-and-love
Summary: He steps out from the shadows of the willow tree...Into the dark night...Nostrils expand and he smells the thick night air ...Of rain that’s yet to come, and the flavour of a dead autumn
1. Blood Beast

**Disclaimer**: Its mine, my idea, totally of my creation, Rowling had nothing to do with it! But, if you want to image the person is Remus Lupin go ahead, and for you people I'll say this, I don't own it.

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**Blood Stricken Beast**

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It's barely dawn,

But the blood is already pounding in his veins

It warns him, advises him.

The full moon is upon him.

Noon comes,

The five senses of his body;

Hear, smell, touch, taste and see

Have evolved, heightened.

Dusk,

And the moon

Is almost over the hill

His mind and body is in tune to the months monthly cycle, it's path

He has been this monster

Since he lived in the cottage

On Autumn Hill

It's time,

The moon just peaks out from the mountain

He is standing in a clearing, a clear site for his enemy

The blood pounds, the first sign

Pupils turn black, the second

A howl of pain, the third

Then the change

Slowly, his head morphs

Hair becomes fur

Wild and untameable

Black and Silver

His body shape changes to that

Of a large wolf,

Canines glint in the moonlight

The howls he unleashes

Would be heard by the animals around,

If they had not already scattered,

Since the first howl was released,

They know better than to become prey;

To a blood stricken beast.

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**Hey, all my adoring fans**

**I have decided to publish my poems,**

**so whenever i right them, ill post them and put them in harry Potter context**

**Love,**

**magic-and-love**


	2. Moons Fatal Addictive Glow

**Disclaimer:** These poems are mine mine mine, and guess why because it does not refer to Harry Potter…ha ha ha finally something that is MINE! Okay if you want to pretend it's Remus Lupin, you can, so for those people I say, I don't own it.

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**Werewolf; see lycanthropy**

The transformation of a human being into a wolf; there are two types of lycanthropy, a mania in which a person imagines himself to be a wolf (mental illness); and the magical ecstatic transformation of a person into a werewolf (Old English wer "man wolf"), can also be a person born under a curse. Werewolves cannot prevent its hellish metamorphosis during the nights of a full moon. A Lycann can prevent its transformation, but only needs the moon in eyesight to transform.

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**Moon's Fatal Glow**

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He steps out from the shadows of the willow tree,

Into the dark night

Nostrils expand and he smells the thick night air -

Of rain that's yet to come, and the flavour of a dead autumn

A pale, fragile, hand rises to his head,

Fingers glide through the soft strands of his hair

Grey hairs have veiled his youthful appearance.

He sighs heavily

His breath becomes mist upon contacting the chilled night air.

He looks up,

The omniscient pearl of a moon,

Contrasting against the black starless sky.

The moon almost at the end of its monthly cycle;

One more day to go

(Moon in another language is never more appealing.)

His eyes darken into black,

Reflecting the moon perfectly in his eyes.

An invisible pull begs him to the moon

To howl like the wolf he is.

Blood pumps through his veins;

Adrenaline coursing in speeds unknown

This is his curse.

The cold and the darkness  
Digs deeper into his heart and soul

But,

He will fight it

He will fight it till he cannot no more

And those days bring him terror.

The cold and darkness  
He can't defy  
it can kill

Three days of the month,

While the moon is fresh and new

Into a beast he will transform

Longing to bite, to taste, to turn.

But,

He will fight it.

He has been cursed,

Of the moons addictive fatal glow

He is the moons creation:

A Beast,

He is a werewolf.

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Hey all, another poem!  
Got any suggestions or challenges for another?

Love,

maic-and-love


	3. Innocent

**Disclaimer:** Its mine and it's not mine...

**Innocent**

**A/N:** This poem is about Sirius and Azkaban!

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Lined with the cold grey stones from the cliff

Is a small room, cold and damp with moss

There is no window

Only the bars of the doors

Welded with dark iron and steel

This is the place were the evil and guilty go

Never to come out again

The monsters there will

Take their happiness

The memories of sanity

Will be ripped from the soul

There are shrieks and yells

Cries of those

Trying to hold onto that last happy memory

Of a wife, a child

A life once loved.

But, in one cell

A 5 times 9 cell, the smallest in the dungeon

Two hooded figures guarding the fortress

Torment the man inside.

Huddled in a corner,

His tattered robes scratching his skin

Long black hair knotted together

A hated beard upon his face

He shivers, a soft mortified cry coming from his throat

As the guards try to take the last of his happiness

He shifts, changes

Slowly the dog appears,

The pain is lesser now,

He can breathe and think

The dementors shift

Floating into the room

They suck in the air around them viciously

Trying to find the soul

Of their prisoner

The dog whines and crawls out of the cell

Thin enough to squeeze through the bars

The black dog, jumps past prisoners

Easily making it past the defences of Azkaban,

These guards no not of an animal

He plunges into the ocean and swims

With a heart felt energy

He swims,

Swims in an unknown direction

Just thinking

'Innocent, innocent, innocent'


	4. Chapter 4

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**Disclaimer:** I own the poem, but if it in anyway bends into the HP universe, then JK Rowling can own it...

**I was reading this poem, and thought of Draco Malfoy for some reason; stuck in an evil family with the Malfoy name to hold up.**

**Thanks to: Arwen-Evenstar-Elf, sarcastic spastic, gryfinndorseeker452 for revewing.**

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**Standing Alone…**

Trust is not there,

Happiness is gone, loyalty hidden

The pounding of a heart is heard.

The wind hurls and thrushes about

Whipping my hair about

I, me

Trapped a twelve foot pit

Unable to dig or climb

Hope is diminished

No one can hear for miles around

No one to listen comfort of talk

The echo of my shouts

The bitterness of the cold

Drowning where no water lay.

I, me

Trapped a twelve foot pit

Me, standing alone

No way to free myself

To look up to see the sky

Grey stricken clouds and thunderous noise

My only companions

Till I die

Shadows of forgotten trees

Lurk above and over my doom.

Cant go up must go down

Hear,

The distant sound of a church bell

Sounding

Ding. dong. ding. dong

With only me to hear

Shadows darken

Noise increases

The wind storms about

Darkness falls

Frightened

Me, alone

I, me

Standing alone

Eternity gone.

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I seem to remeber this was the first poem i ever wrote on my computer when i first got it last christmas. Hope you liked

magic-and-love


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